


The Third Robin's Flight

by PrincessMariana



Series: Dark-ish Batfam [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: -Ish, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce obsessively wants his family to be safe, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark, Dick wants a saner family, Fan Boy Tim Drake, Gen, Obsessive Behavior, Overprotective Bruce Wayne, Parent Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, Tim just wants to be part of a family, a mixture of fluff and wtf, at any cost, im excited thats a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana
Summary: Tim accepts his place as Bruce' third - and most loyal - son. When his mother dies and his father returns to Gotham, Tim once again must pick a side, but Bruce never lets go of his children easily.Meanwhile, Dick struggles with the ramifications of finding the Joker, and Bruce remembers why Batman needs a Robin.This follows Into the Gilded Cage.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Dark-ish Batfam [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724602
Comments: 177
Kudos: 268





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> I got in a bit of a writer's block with continuing the series, so I dabbled a bit in Flufftober (a slightly different vibe than this), but then I got in a writer's block over there, and somehow that meant I could write this. As it goes.
> 
> To any new readers to this series, welcome! While I'd recommend you read the prequel to this, at the bottom of this notes section, I have a quick summary to catch you up.
> 
> A bit of forewarning, there are some, uh, creepier than usual vibes to this chapter. 
> 
> So here's the quick summary of events up to this point:  
> Jason's died. Bruce freaks out and forces Dick to stay in the manor to keep his last remaining son safe and alive. Dick tries to escape a bunch and fails. Bruce is suitably creepy but mostly nonviolent. Their relationship is complicated. Tim shows up and spends the summer with them. Bonding happens. Dick wants to know what happened with the Joker. Bruce won't tell him anything. Dick escapes, successfully, to find and probably kill the Joker but tells Tim he'll return after he's done. Tim and Bruce join forces to track him down. Dick finds the Joker. Surprise - Bruce locked the Joker in a creepy basement to torture him in his free time, as one does. Bruce finds Dick and takes him home.
> 
> And now, the first chapter of this fic begins soon after the last fic ended.

Dick woke slowly, his eyes reluctantly opening. He was back in the manor, in his old room. That was strange. Tim slept in this room now. Why wasn’t Dick in the room next to Bruce’s? All the minor signs that made the room Tim’s – the science posters, the robotic projects, the neatly organized photography equipment – were gone. The room looked exactly like it had two years ago, down to the overflowing bin of laundry that he kept meaning to bring down to Alfred.

As Dick tried to sit up, he abruptly noticed that his hands were tightly chained to posts protruding from the floor. With the angle of the chains, he couldn’t raise his wrists more than an inch off the bed, and so sitting upright was impossible. That was a bit over the top but not too unexpected of Bruce.

Dick settled back down. He wondered if he should call for Bruce or just wait it out. As if on cue, the bedroom door opened, and Bruce stepped in.

“Hello, chum. I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake,” Bruce said.

“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Dick said, pulling at them for emphasis.

“I didn’t want you to go anywhere,” Bruce said. “You’re never leaving the manor again.”

“Never say never,” Dick said. “Why am I in Tim’s room?”

“This is your room, Dick. You belong here, just like you always have,” Bruce said.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and grasped one of Dick’s hands, squeezing it gently. “But I gave it to Tim,” Dick said.

“Tim isn’t here anymore,” Bruce said.

“Did his parents come back early?” Dick asked.

Bruce’s gaze stayed unnaturally calm. “No. Something else…came up. Something came up for Alfred as well.”

“Bruce,” Dick said cautiously. “What’s going on?”

“Other people keep getting between us,” Bruce said. “Superman, Kid Flash, Alfred, Tim, Jason, the Joker. But I took care of it. It’s alright now. It’s just the two of us. Forever.”

Dick tried to pull away from Bruce, but the cuff around his wrist wouldn’t let him. “What did you do to them?” Dick said.

“You’re always trying to leave the manor – _me_ ,” Bruce continued, still eerily calm. “I’ve made sure that you’ll never leave me again.”

“What – what do you mean?” Dick said. “Bruce, I-”

Bruce pulled back the covers, and Dick looked at his legs. Or where his legs _should_ be. But there was nothing there, only two stumps.

“What did you do?” Dick cried, trying again to jerk away from Bruce, from that sight, but the chains were too strong.

“I’m doing this for you,” Bruce said in a soothing tone. “This is for your own safety, chum.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me!” Dick shouted. “Get _away_ from me!”

“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about your punishment.” Bruce took out a syringe filled with blue liquid. “The Joker hates this one the most. Don’t worry, though. It’ll only last a few days.”

Dick continued to struggle against the chains. “No! Stop! Get away! _Stop!_ ”

“Dick,” Bruce said. “Dick.” His hands were suddenly on Dick’s shoulders. “ _Dick.”_

+++

Dick woke up with screaming, his body thrashing violently against his blankets.

“Dick,” Bruce said. “It’s alright. It’s only a dream.”

Dick frantically looked around the room – _his_ room, not the old one. His eyes rested on Bruce, and he stared, wide-eyed and trembling. “B?”

Bruce was sitting on Dick’s bed, one of his hand resting comfortingly on Dick’s knee. Instead of the horrifically calm expression from before, Bruce looked concerned, caring. “Are you-”

Dick didn’t allow Bruce to finish. He threw himself against Bruce’s chest and clung to him, shaking like a leaf. “My-my legs were gone, and Alfred and Tim were gone. And-and-”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bruce murmured, holding Dick tightly. “You’re safe. It was only a dream.”

“You-you had a syringe. Like in the basement with the-the Joker,” Dick whimpered. “You took my legs. You were going to-”

Bruce pulled away and cupped Dick’s face with a hand, keeping his other hand supportively on Dick’s back. He wiped away a tear with his thumb. “I swear, Dick. I will _never_ hurt you. _Ever_. You’re safe with me.”

“It-it felt so real,” Dick whispered. “Tim and Alfred were gone, and-and I couldn’t – I couldn’t-” He choked out a sob.

Bruce pulled him back against his chest, rocking him gently. “They’re both safe. Tim is in his room, asleep, and Alfred is downstairs in the kitchen. It was just a dream. I won’t let anything happen to any of you. I promise.”

Dick knew that. More than anything, Bruce protected his family. He would never hurt Alfred or Dick or even Tim, who was becoming more like family every day. Dick should’ve realized that it was a dream just based on that, but it had been so real.

Dick kept his face buried in Bruce’s soft nightshirt. Bruce had comforted Dick like this when Dick had been a child. The nightmares after the death of Dick’s parents had been just as vivid and even more terrible. Dick’s screams would bring Bruce running, and Bruce would hold him, just like this.

“It’s still early morning,” Bruce said eventually. Dick had stopped crying and was now just leaning against Bruce, basking in the comfort. “Can you go back to sleep, or do you want to ask Alfred for some hot chocolate?”

With the potential of nightmares looming over him, Dick didn’t want to fall asleep again, but his eyes were already drifting shut on their own accord. Dick hummed tiredly against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Sleep it is,” Bruce said.

Dick let Bruce gently lay him back on the bed and pull the blankets up to his chin. “You’re safe here,” Dick heard Bruce murmur as he faded back into sleep.

+++

Tim watched from the doorway as Bruce tucked Dick back into bed.

“Did the screams wake you, Tim?” Bruce asked without turning.

Tim startled. Sometimes he wondered if Bruce had eyes in the back of his head. “Yeah. I thought the drugs would keep him from dreaming.”

“General anesthesia would stop the dreams, but I wanted him to sleep tonight. I gave him a general sleeping drug, one of the few he isn’t resistant to.” Bruce leaned down to gently kiss Dick’s forehead and then stood, looking at Tim. “Do you want an early breakfast?”

Tim nodded. He didn’t think he’d get much sleep after hearing Dick’s terrified screaming and jumbled recounting of the nightmare. It was unsettling to see Dick so scared.

Alfred already had breakfast prepared downstairs, though he himself was nowhere to be seen. Dick’s nightmare must have alerted him to an early morning for both Bruce and Tim.

As Tim poked at his eggs, he said, “I…have a theory.”

The last few days, since Dick had left, Bruce had been coiled tight, a mixture of determination, fury, and anxiety. His action had been efficient and brutal. Somehow, he’d managed to get a location out of Kid Flash in less than ten minutes. Tim hadn’t been on the comms during that interrogation, but he’d helped set the trap, and he knew the specs of the warehouse where they’d trapped Kid Flash.

After Dick had come home last night, Bruce was back to normal, but Tim couldn’t unsee the darker version of Bruce that he’d witnessed. Dick’s nightmare connected more of the dots.

“Go ahead,” Bruce said.

Tim met Bruce’s eyes, chewing his lip nervously. “If I’m wrong…I don’t want to make you mad.”

“I promise that you won’t upset me,” Bruce said as he cut into his sausage. “You can tell me anything, Tim.”

“So…I’m assuming that Dick found the Joker?” Tim began.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Bruce said.

“But he didn’t get hurt.”

“No.”

“Dick didn’t kill the Joker.”

“No.”

“And you didn’t either.”

“Correct.”

Tim studied Bruce’s face intently. It revealed nothing, as usual.

“The news would’ve reported if the Joker was in Arkham or found dead,” Tim said, eyes locked on Bruce.

“Yes.”

“ _You_ have the Joker.”

Something like approval crossed Bruce’s face. “Yes.”

“And…” Tim took a deep breath. If he was wrong… “And Dick mentioned syringes…You’ve been hurting the Joker. A lot. That’s why Dick had that nightmare.”

“Very perceptive. Yes.”

Tim rocked back. “Wow.” It was one thing to have the theory – a completely different thing to be _right_.

Bruce set down his fork. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Tim.”

“I-” Tim fidgeted under the intensity of Bruce’s eyes. Bruce didn’t appear to be angry, but Tim felt like he was under some kind of test that he couldn’t afford to fail. “Everyone thinks that you have a no-kill rule, because you don’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner. I thought that too, but that’s not right, is it? You don’t kill because the really, really bad criminals, like the Joker, don’t deserve to die. And…I think I agree?”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Most criminals have a chance at redemption, but the very worst of them do not deserve the peace of death. They deserve to face the consequences of their actions. I usually settle for the symbol of the bat to haunt their dreams and fuel their paranoia, but the Joker crossed the line.”

Tim nodded. “He shouldn’t have killed Jason.”

It felt strange, agreeing with…well, torture. But Tim couldn’t help but think of Dick facing the Joker and losing. If Bruce had allowed the Joker to run free, Tim might have been preparing to watch Dick’s body be buried next to Jason’s empty grave. Another Robin dead.

The Joker had killed so many people, but killing Robin – any Robin – was an even greater sin. Robin was a sign of hope for Gotham – someone who children could aspire to be like, an ideal to reach for. Robin represented all the children that the criminals of Gotham tried to ruin, but Robin was the child that fought back and _won_.

Bruce was right. The Joker didn’t deserve to be locked up in a cell that he’d inevitably escape. He deserved justice – _true_ justice – and to be made an example of what happened when bad people went too far.

“How did Dick react when he found the Joker?” Tim said.

“Poorly,” Bruce said. “He went into shock.”

“Is that why he didn’t fight you when you brought him home?” Tim asked. Tim flushed at Bruce’s inquisitive look. “His clothes weren’t rumpled or dirty or anything, so I just guessed…”

“Good eye,” Bruce said. “But not quite. After he found the Joker, he told me to take him home so that he could fulfill his promise to you.”

“Really? For me?” Tim hadn’t purposefully doubted the words in Dick’s letter, but he couldn’t imagine Dick picking _Tim_ over the Teen Titans.

“He cares about you,” Bruce said. “You’ve become part of his family, and family means everything.”

“Not to my parents.” Tim slapped a hand over his mouth. He had not meant to say that allowed, no matter how true it felt.

Tim expected Bruce to say what everyone else said. That his parents did care. That they were just busy with work. That they kept him fed and gave him the best education. That they were his _parents_ , so _of course_ they cared.

Instead, Bruce said, “Family is a choice, not a birthright.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I have no close living relatives,” Bruce said. “Alfred became my family after my parents died. I am not tied to Dick or Jason through blood, either, but they are family. Even Barbara, to a certain degree, is a part of my family. You could be as well, if you wished.”

“I…could?” Was it that easy for Tim to get everything he’d ever wanted?

Bruce inclined his head, his eyes still so intense. Tim felt like Bruce was looking into his _soul_. “If you wanted to, yes.”

“I want to!” Tim blurted and then blushed, embarrassed at his obvious eagerness. “I mean…this summer has been amazing. I love being here with you and Dick and Alfred. And being in the Batcave – _helping_ in the Batcave – it’s so…I feel like I belong for the first time since…ever.”

Despite Tim’s babbled words and burning face, Bruce’s smile was kind. “I’m glad that you’ve found a home with us.”

“Thank you,” Tim squeaked, squirming in his seat.

The emotions he was feeling in this moment were overwhelming. Tim wanted to remember the warmth in Bruce’s eyes but also maybe hide under the table until his heart stopped racing.

Alfred saved him, materializing out of nowhere. “Neither of you have finished your breakfast,” he said in a disapproving tone.

Bruce picked up his fork. “Sorry, Alfred. We were carried away in our conversation.”

Alfred sighed. “As long as you at least finish your vegetables, Master Bruce.” He set down his tray and placed a mug in front of each of them. “Coffee for you, sir, and caffeine- _free_ tea for Master Tim.”

Tim made a face, but he’d learned early on not to argue with Alfred over caffeine. It only earned him bland stares and derisive comments.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said.

“Very good, sir,” Alfred said and left.

“What’s going to happen to Dick?” Tim asked, quickly changing the subject to something that didn’t make him want to squirm.

Tim was also just curious. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that there wouldn’t be ramifications for Dick’s escape. Bruce was all about consequences. Even Tim had faced Bruce’s disciplinary methods a few times over the summer. When Tim had snuck a cup of caffeinated coffee behind Alfred’s back, Bruce had made Tim write a short research report on the negative effects of caffeine on children.

Bruce always included a lesson in his discipline. As annoying as the research reports, extra chores, and laps around the manor were, Tim actually preferred and respected that to his parents’ version of discipline – a disappointed glare and a few hours locked in his room.

“I haven’t decided,” Bruce said. “My original plans were based on my anger at the time, but I have moved past that. What do _you_ think his punishment should be?”

“Uh…”

Tim scrambled for what say. The way Bruce had asked the question felt like how Bruce asked Tim’s opinion when working in the Batcave – like Tim’s answer would actually have value. On the other hand, it also made Tim feel even more like Bruce’s accomplice in the fight between Bruce and Dick.

Coming into the manor, Tim had been firmly on Dick’s side, but after Dick had left, Tim had been forced to choose a definite side, and he’d chosen Bruce’s. By answering Bruce’s question, Tim would be deepening that line in the sand. Tim vehemently hoped that Dick wouldn’t hate him for it.

“I guess the important part is to have a lesson?” Tim began tentatively. “Like, we – you need to do something to convince Dick not to leave again, right? Making him help Alfred with the dishes or something wouldn’t be enough.”

“I agree,” Bruce said and waited expectantly.

Tim didn’t have anything else to say. He wracked his brain, trying to find the solution to the puzzle that Bruce had presented him. “He stopped trying to leave after I came but left for Jason. So, Dick bases his decision on other people. Um…” Tim mulled over his own words, trying to find the conclusion – “ _Oh_. I get it. It’s me. I’m the answer.”

Bruce’s approving nod made Tim feel elated in the way that his parents’ distant pride never could.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick takes a stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've gotten swamped by flufftober and the ongoing job hunt, so I apologize for the delay. But here it is! :)

The next morning, Dick woke with a new-found determination. He was sick and tired of falling part every other week. Dick might have lost the previous battle – and all those before – but the war wasn’t over yet.

Predictably, Dick’s bedroom door was locked. Dick knew that his punishment for successfully leaving would be worse than merely being locked in his room, but he wouldn’t be surprised if isolation would be a part of the punishment. He hoped that Tim wouldn’t become collateral damage in whatever else Bruce had planned.

Regardless, Dick refused to play along like a good little prisoner.

As he’d prepared for his escape to find the Joker, Dick had also prepared for his inevitable re-capture. Dick had snuck tools out of the Batcave. He’d managed to discreetly hide them in various places around his bedroom without revealing anything to the cameras. At least – that had been his intention.

Dick checked his sock drawer. It was the most obvious spot – one of the first places Bruce would look – so if that tool kit wasn’t missing, the rest were probably also still in the room.

Dick pulled the small bag buried under his socks. Success! This was a sure sign that Bruce hadn’t thought to canvas the room before locking Dick in. It was a special kind of accomplish to outthinking _Batman_.

Tools in hand, Dick quickly started working on the locked, shatter-proof window. Within minutes, he had it open. He discarded his tools and slipped out the window.

Without a grapple hook, he had to climb his way down. Gripping the manor’s old stone exterior hurt Dick’s hands, but the small cuts were worth it when his feet landed on soft grass.

Dick dusted himself off and walked nonchalantly to the manor’s back entrance that led into the kitchen.

Tim was sitting on the kitchen counter, chatting with Alfred, while Alfred prepared breakfast. They both stared as Dick stepped into the room.

“Good morning,” Dick said cheerfully.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said. For a moment, he looked surprised, but then he turned back to the eggs, taking Dick’s unexpected entrance in stride.

Tim jumped off the counter and hugged Dick tightly. “Missed you,” he mumbled against Dick’s nightshirt.

“I missed you too,” Dick said, hugging Tim back. “I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly.”

“I get it,” Tim said. He pulled back, studying Dick quizzically. “I thought Bruce had, um…”

“Locked me in my room?” Dick quirked a smile. “It takes more than a locked door to contain a former Robin.”

“Master Tim, would you mind setting the table?” Alfred said.

“Sure! Uh…Two or three place settings?” Tim asked.

“Three,” Dick said before Alfred could reply.

“…Okay,” Tim said and darted out of the room.

“How’s he been doing?” Dick asked Alfred when Tim was out of earshot.

“These past few days, Master Tim has been in relatively good spirits,” Alfred said. “He and Master Bruce spend most of their time together.”

Dick sighed. “I figured. Has Bruce acted…unstable or weird around Tim?”

“I do not believe that Master Tim’s life or emotional well being is under threat,” Alfred said.

“That’s good,” Dick said. “I hated leaving him, but I had to find the Joker for…Jason’s sake.”

“I imagine what you found has not given you closure,” Alfred said.

“You knew?” Dick said, shocked.

“I…suspected.” Alfred took the eggs off the burner and distributed them on three plates. “Given Master Bruce’s nature, I knew that he would not resort to murder, but also that he would not allow for such a crime to go unpunished.”

“And you’re…okay with it?” Dick said.

Alfred turned to meet Dick’s eyes, something hard in his expression. “You and Master Jason are the closest I will ever have to grandchildren. The anger and grief of his passing leaves little room for me to pity his murderer.”

“…Is it bad then?” Dick said hesitantly. “That it… _does_ bother me?”

“No,” Alfred said, turning back to the stove. “Your parents and then Master Bruce raised you to have a stricter moral code than I, or even Master Bruce, possess.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Dick confessed. “I was going to kill the Joker when I found him.”

“A short death is a kind mercy compared to the merciless suffering that he now faces.”

Dick remembered the look on the Joker’s face – the terror and the panic. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Could you bring out the food while I tidy up the kitchen?” Alfred said.

“Not going to stick around for the fireworks?” Dick asked as he put the plates on a tray.

“It would be best if I didn’t,” Alfred said, “though I wish you luck.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

Dick carried the tray to the dining room. Tim was already in his seat, fidgeting anxiously.

“It’ll be alright, Tim,” Dick said soothingly.

Tim gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t think he’s going to be mad?”

“Oh, he’ll be furious,” Dick said, taking his own seat, “but at me, not you. And he’d never physically hurt me.”

“I know that.” Tim chewed his lower lip.

“Tim…are you afraid of Bruce?” Dick asked. “Or of Batman?”

To Dick’s relief, Tim immediately shook his head. “No. Of course not. I just…” He averted his eyes.

Before Dick could press further, Bruce strode into the room. _“Dick_ ,” he snarled.

“Good morning, Bruce,” Dick said cheerfully.

Bruce’s glare was full of cold anger. _Good_ , Dick thought viciously. Let him be angry. Let him feel the loss of control that Dick had felt all summer.

“Funny thing,” Dick said pleasantly. “I woke up this morning, and my door was locked. Fortunately, I was able to get out through the window. It’s so strange. Almost like someone _wanted_ me to stay in my room. Which would be ridiculous, right? After all, I’m an _adult,_ and so I should be allowed to come and go as I please in my own home.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, deathly calm. “You should finish your breakfast in the kitchen with Alfred.”

Tim didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed his plate and was gone. Bruce’s hard gaze refocused on Dick. Dick refused to be cowed. He glared back.

“You shouldn’t have left your room, Dick,” Bruce said in a low, dangerous tone.

“I wanted to see Alfred and Tim,” Dick said defiantly. “And I wanted breakfast. I didn’t have chance to eat much these past few days, because _someone_ won’t let me live my own life.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Bruce snapped.

“Actually, yes. Yes, it does,” Dick said. He stood, his hands clenching into fists. “As an _adult_ , I’m allowed to do what I want. The last time I checked, someone stopping me – a legal adult – from doing what I want is illegal.”

Bruce stepped closer, but Dick refused to back away. “I could make it legal,” Bruce said. “With my resources, it would be so easy. A doctor, a judge, a few lawyers – that’s all it would take to declare you insane and _legally_ my ward, completely under my power.”

“Then do it,” Dick spat. “I _fucking_ dare you.”

“But I don’t need to,” Bruce said. “Because regardless of where you run, regardless of what allies you make, regardless of _the law_ , I will find you and bring you back, because you’re _mine_. You’re my son, and I don’t need any legal document’s approval to keep you safe and by my side. If you choose to defy me, you will face the consequences.”

“I don’t belong to _anyone_ ,” Dick said. “Just because I’m your son, doesn’t mean you own me or that you have power over me.”

“Dick,” Bruce said, deathly calm again. “Go to your room.”

“Fuck. You,” Dick said, enunciating each word.

Dick rarely showed Bruce such blatant disrespect, even when he’d been seventeen and on the brink of becoming Nightwing. Dick didn’t often do it, because he respected and loved Bruce but also because it never ended well for him. Dick didn’t care. The satisfaction of saying those words to Bruce outweighed anything Bruce could do in retaliation.

“This is my last warning,” Bruce growled. “Go to your room, Dick. _Now_.”

“You’ll have to drag me, kicking and screaming,” Dick said.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Dick heard the faint _hiss_ of air being released. He glanced around the room, trying to locate its source.

“I’ve updated the manor since you left,” Bruce said conversationally. “I modified a knock-out gas created by Ivy. There are now canisters of it in every room.”

Dick’s vision began to blur, and he had to grasp at the table to keep upright.

“I’m immune to it, of course,” Bruce continued. “A fight between us would be violent, and I don’t want to hurt you, chum.”

“Go to hell,” Dick slurred as he fell to his knees.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I will do what is required to keep you safe,” Bruce said.

Dick slumped to ground. The last thing he saw was Bruce’s face before he blacked out.

+++

Bruce carried Dick down to the Batcave. Tim was at the Batcomputer, where he had video feeds of Dick’s bedroom and the dining room pulled up.

“Your timing was perfect,” Bruce said as he gently set Dick down on a medical cot.

“You could turn the manor into a really cool haunted house for Halloween,” Tim said. “All the sensors and switches and cameras – it’s amazing.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I checked the camera feeds for where else he might’ve hidden stuff, but he played the camera angles well. I might have missed some spots,” Tim said.

“Good work,” Bruce said as he hooked Dick up to an IV. “I’ll do a thorough search myself, but there’s no rush. He won’t be in any condition to defy us again for a while.”

Tim grimaced. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but it’s for the best,” Bruce said. “You should go back up stairs and finish breakfast, while I finish down here.”

“I’ll tell Alfred you’ll be up in a bit,” Tim said, heading for the stairs.

“Oh, and Tim?” Bruce called after him. “Thank you. Your help has been invaluable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comments! :)


	3. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce reasserts his control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after the last chapter, uh, now everyone hates Tim. Whoops. Haha. 
> 
> Dick swears a lot in this chapter. Jason would be proud.

The ceiling was pretty. The wood absorbed most of the light, but there was some reflection. Dick vaguely realized that he’d lifted his hand up. He tried to grab at the light. It slipped through his fingers, and he frowned, trying again. “Come back,” he whined. “I wanna play.”

His wrist looked funny. When he moved his arm closer to investigate, he hit himself in the face. “Ow,” he said - not because it hurt, but because that’s what he should say when hitting himself in the face, right?

Gentle hands grasped his arm and moved it back to his side. “Don’t hurt yourself, chum.”

Dick blinked at the fuzzy figure that had appeared. Slowly, he made out Bruce’s face. “B!” he said happily. “Is tha’ you?”

“Yes, Dick. It’s me,” Bruce said. He stroked Dick’s hair, and Dick leaned into the contact, his eyes momentarily fluttering closed.

“The light – it’s moving too fast,” he said, pouting. “Grab the light for me?”

“Sorry, chum. It’s too fast for me too,” Bruce said. “Now, I need you answer a few questions. Can you do that for me?”

Dick blinked up at Bruce as he tried to understand. So many words. Why did Bruce have to use so many words? “…yeah,” he said.

“Does anything hurt?” Bruce asked.

Hurt? Dick had done the full body check so many times that it came automatically to him. He wiggled his fingers, rolled back his shoulders, twisted his torso as much as he could lying down, and bent his arms and legs. But…Dick scowled. “Legs won’t move.” He tried to kick, but nothing happened. “B?” he said with a distressed sniffle.

“It’s alright, chum,” Bruce soothed, wiping away a tear from Dick’s cheek. “Just a precaution. Is anything else wrong?”

“No,” Dick said sadly. “I miss my legs. I wan’ my legs.”

“You’ll get them back soon,” Bruce said. “I have a few more questions, okay? Can you hang in there for me?”

“Yeah.” Dick beamed up at Bruce. “I love you, B.”

Bruce smiled back warmly, and Dick reached out, trying to touch that warmth. Bruce caught Dick’s hand and pushed it back onto the bed. “I love you too, chum,” Bruce said. “You hid somethings in your room. Where did you hide them?”

“Nah,” Dick said. “Can’t say.”

“This is important, sweetheart,” Bruce said. “Where are they?”

“They’re-” Dick bit his lip. He wanted to say. He wanted to please Bruce. “I-”

 _No,_ something from the back of his mind protested fiercely. He whimpered. _Don’t say anything,_ the voice said. _Secret, secret, secret._ “It’s a secret,” Dick whispered.

“You shouldn’t keep secrets from me,” Bruce said. “I can’t protect you if you have secrets.”

Bruce was right. Dick shouldn’t keep secrets. Bruce only wanted to protect him. Dick opened his mouth. And then clamped it shut again. _No_. Dick wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t tell Bruce _anything_.

He tried to scramble away from Bruce, but his legs wouldn’t move. He cried out, thrashing against whatever was holding his legs immobile.

“Shh, it’s alright, chum,” Bruce said. “You’re safe here.”

“But-but – I can’t tell you,” Dick said. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. I _won’t_. Where’s Tim? I have to keep Tim safe. Something’s wrong with Bruce. He hurt the Joker. I have to protect Tim. Where’s Tim? Let me go! I have to – have to – I won’t say anything! You can’t make me. I’m-I’m not-”

Dick felt the prick of a needle on his shoulder, and everything went blissfully dark.

+++

When Dick woke, his head hurt, and he couldn’t move. _Fuck._

Dick bit the inside of his cheek to check that this wasn’t another nightmare. Nope, this was real. At least he was in his own room and not Tim’s. He visually checked himself over. He still had legs and arms. Good. Okay. Dick could do this. He took a calming breath.

He’d survived being the boy hostage for too many years. He could survive whatever Bruce had planned. As long as this wasn’t a real nightmare, Bruce wouldn’t hurt him.

The door opened, and Bruce walked in. _Not a nightmare,_ Dick had to remind himself. _Not a nightmare not a nightmare not a nightmare._

Bruce sat at the edge of the bed and reached a hand towards Dick. Dick tried to bite it. Bruce tutted. “None of that, chum,” he said sternly.

He gently touched something around Dick’s neck. Dick had thought the odd tightness of his throat was due to the panic, but, no, Dick was wearing a _fucking collar._

“Don’t touch me!” Dick spat, uselessly straining his head away.

“Behave,” Bruce said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were dangerous. _Not a nightmare not a nightmare he won’t hurt you._ “Ivy developed a toxin that can interfere with the nervous system. I made a few modifications. This-” Bruce rubbed his thumb against the collar. “-can immobilize any part of your body. Be grateful that you can still move your neck.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” Dick said, trying to use his anger to hide the quiver in voice.

Bruce sighed and reached into his pocket. There was a nauseating _click_. Dick couldn’t help the whimper that escaped when he could no longer turn his head. His neck was frozen, just like his arms and legs.

“Your mouth is next, then your eyes,” Bruce murmured, lightly carding his fingers through Dick’s hair.

“I’m not some lab experiment!” Dick said. “You can’t try out weird toxins on me. I thought – I thought-” _If it’s not a nightmare he won’t hurt me._

Dick hated himself – his _weakness_ – as his vision began to blur. He was supposed to be _over_ the emotional breakdowns.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bruce cooed, deceptively gentle. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears. “I wouldn’t risk your health like that. I tested it several times.”

“On…on who?” Dick said, mouth dry. _Please not Tim. Please not Tim. Please not Tim._

“The Joker had help,” Bruce said. “They were merely thugs carrying out orders, but their actions resulted in the death of my son. I couldn’t let that go unpunished.”

Dick felt guiltily relieved that Tim hadn’t been a guinea pig. While Dick didn’t think Bruce would hurt Tim, Dick also hadn’t thought that Bruce was capable of torture. Or human experimentation. “You’ve been planning this for a while, then,” Dick said bitterly.

It took time to thoroughly test a medical device – torture device? – and Bruce was nothing if not thorough.

“I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, chum, but I needed to be prepared,” Bruce said, stroking Dick’s cheek. Dick was unable to move away. “I trained you a little too well, it seems. You shouldn’t have left your room.”

“You trained me to protect myself from people like _you_ ,” Dick snapped. “You think taking away my body will break me? Sure, I can’t escape like this, but my mind is my own. You’ll _never_ touch that. I’ll teach myself to hate you. I swear. You can keep my mouth shut, my eyes closed, but every time you look at me, you’ll see my hatred.”

Dick loathed that his words didn’t even make Bruce flinch. Bruce just smiled back, patronizing, like Dick was an adorable toddler throwing a tantrum.

“I don’t need your loyalty. I need your obedience,” Bruce said. Dick wanted to punch him in his stupid calm face. “No more escape attempts. No more sneaking around. No more reckless acts of defiance. Like this, you can’t disobey me. If your behavior pleases me, we can establish some trust. With trust, you will earn privileges. Movement is a privilege. Leaving this room is a privilege. Seeing Tim is a privilege.”

“Is Tim alright?” Dick asked, a little desperately. Bruce had no reason to hurt Tim, right? Why had Bruce even mentioned Tim? Bruce wouldn’t hurt Tim. He _couldn’t_.

“Knowledge is another privilege,” Bruce said.

“ _Please_ , B,” Dick said.

He didn’t want to beg, but he couldn’t help it. Dick had come back for Tim. He’d _stayed_ for Tim when he’d had the opportunity to leave. He needed to know if Tim was okay – if his actions had put Tim in danger.

Bruce carded his fingers through Dick’s hair. “You’re so protective of him,” he said fondly. “Don’t worry. He’s my son. I’ll keep your brother safe.”

That didn’t instill Dick with confidence, considering everything Bruce had done to Dick _because_ Dick was his son. Dick wanted to rage that Tim was _not_ Bruce’s son, because Tim shouldn’t be pulled into this mess. But maybe it was safer for Bruce to see Tim that way. Maybe that would keep Bruce from hurting Tim to hurt Dick.

“…Thank you,” Dick said reluctantly.

“If you behave, your wings will not be clipped forever, my little robin,” Bruce said.

“I’m _not_ your robin,” Dick said venomously. “Go to _hell._ ”

“Very well. I’ll leave you alone.” Bruce stood. Before he closed the door behind him, he added, “Take this time to think about what you’re willing to sacrifice for the sake of your pride.”

+++

Bruce gently massaged shampoo into Dick’s hair, while Dick resolutely avoided Bruce’s eyes. Bruce had returned a few hours later with food. Dick had tolerated without complaint the spoon feeding. He had briefly protested when Bruce had helped Dick relieve himself. The suggestion of a catheter or a diaper was enough to quell him. Now, as Bruce bathed his son, Dick stayed silently.

This wasn’t the first time Bruce had undressed his son. There was little modesty between them. But Bruce washing Dick’s naked and weak body was clearly more intimate than Dick was comfortable with.

Dick had always liked his independence. As a child, he’d insisted that Robin was Batman’s _partner_ , not his sidekick. He hadn’t been wrong – Robin was more than a sidekick – but Robin’s safety had come first. Batman was the protector, no matter how much Robin argued.

About an hour ago, Bruce had remotely reduced the toxin’s influence on Dick’s core muscles, so that Dick could sit upright in the tub without sinking into the water and potentially drowning. Dick could be using that small dexterity to shy away from Bruce’s touch, but he didn’t. Bruce was pleased that Dick had reconsidered and was trying to garner some goodwill. He wondered how long that would last.

As Bruce rubbed Dick’s body with a cloth, cleaning where the bath water didn’t reach, Dick said, still averting his gaze, “Is this, uh – Will this become a daily thing?”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Until you earn back the movement of your body, I will take care of you.”

Dick laughed, a little hysterically. “The scary thing about all this is that you aren’t lying. You think you’re protecting me.”

“I am protecting you,” Bruce said.

“B,” Dick said, “I can’t move my arms. I can’t walk. I needed help just to _pee_. I’m not feeling very protected. I keep resisting the urge to shout for Clark to save me.”

“Even if he heard you through the manor’s sound disruptors, he wouldn’t make it past the manor’s defenses,” Bruce said calmly, ignoring the brief rage at the thought of Superman – or anyone – taking Dick away from him.

“I know. That’s why I won’t. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me,” Dick said. He finally met Bruce’s eyes. “Especially not Tim.”

Ah. That explained Dick’s restraint. Before, Dick had become docile at the mere mention of Tim’s name. Bruce generally dissuaded Dick from such attachments. But Jason and Tim were different. They were family, and they guided Dick back into the fold, instead of away from it. Likewise, Dick had unknowingly led Tim to their small family. Jason, Bruce had found himself.

Dick’s attachment to Tim offered no threat. Tim had a similar attachment to Dick. It was as it should be in a family.

“Your brother is safe,” Bruce said.

“By your standards or by mine?” Dick asked.

“Both,” Bruce said. “I would never hurt him. He’s my son.”

Dick’s body was thoroughly cleaned, but Bruce didn’t want the conversation to end. Dick was actually talking, not hissing at him like a scared kitten. Fortunately, Dick didn’t comment when Bruce set down the cloth.

“What, uh – what would I have to do to…earn the…privilege of seeing Tim?” Dick said, struggling with the words.

There it was – the question that Bruce had been waiting for. “Obedience,” Bruce said. “When I tell you to do something – or not to do something – you comply. Immediately. You answer my questions honestly and completely. No more petty acts of defiance.”

Dick’s anger came in short, fiery bursts. Quick to come and quick to go. Bruce’s watched Dick carefully and saw the familiar fury flitter across his face, but then Dick took a few deep breaths, and it was gone, replaced by a tentative hope.

“And…and then I’d get to see Tim?” Dick said.

“Yes,” Bruce said.

“So all I have to do is give up any chance of freedom, in exchange for checking that Tim’s okay?” Dick said. His frustration added a fire to his voice that had been missing the whole conversation.

“I told you that Tim is safe,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, but-” Dick bit his lip.

Bruce waited patiently for him to continue. The bath water would get uncomfortably cold in about ten minutes. They had plenty of time.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Dick said eventually. He kept his eyes fixed on Bruce’s shoulder. “Well, I guess I don’t. But I know you wouldn’t lie about Tim being safe. I…I had another nightmare, after you left. Tim was…Tim was in the place of the Joker. You were – you were _hurting_ him, and I couldn’t _do_ anything, because I couldn’t move. It’s stupid, because you’d never do that to a kid, especially not Tim. But I didn’t think you’d ever – that you were even capable…”

One of Bruce’s greatest failures as a father was Dick finding the Joker. Bruce didn’t feel any remorse over the Joker’s fate, but he had never wanted Dick to see just how cruel Bruce could be. He should’ve kept Dick far away from that dark reality. Dick’s heart was too gentle, too caring, even for his brother’s murderer.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“It’s just-” Dick said. To Bruce’s horror, Dick’s eyes began to well with tears. “When I was Robin, you sometimes got really angry, but you never – not like _that_.”

Bruce didn’t want to tell Dick about how Batman acted on the bad nights when Robin wasn’t around. He’d always been aware of Robin’s trusting gaze, and he’d never allowed Robin to see what Batman could become.

“I hate crying!” Dick said, sniffling. “I’m always doing it now, and I can’t stop. I feel absolutely _pathetic_.”

“These last few months have been tough,” Bruce said. He cleaned Dick’s face with a damp washcloth. “It’s perfectly understandable.”

“But I’m Nightwing! I’m supposed to be stronger than this,” Dick said.

“You don’t need to be strong anymore,” Bruce said.

Dick let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you’d say that. You want me to give up, but I won’t do that. I won’t give in. I _won’t._ ”

“Not even for Tim?” Bruce said.

“ _Fuck you_ for using him against me,” Dick spat. 

“Language,” Bruce said.

“Stop treating me like a child!” Dick said.

It was a familiar argument. “Let’s get you to bed, chum,” Bruce said.

“No! You can’t just send me to bed like I’m a toddler. That isn’t – Stop! Don’t touch me!”

Despite Dick’s protests, Bruce lifted him out of the bathtub and began drying him off. Dick was powerless to stop him, but he continued to curse at Bruce. Bruce refused to engage.

By the time Dick was dry and wrapped in a large, fluffy robe, Dick had fallen silent. Bruce carried him back to the bedroom and tucked him into bed. This time, Bruce remembered to put Dick on his side in a somewhat fetal position, like how he usually slept. That might help with the nightmares.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Bruce said before leaving the room.

“As if I can go anywhere,” Dick muttered bitterly.

During Bruce’s search for Dick, Bruce had checked Dick’s old apartment. It had been a long shot, but Bruce liked to be thorough. While there, he’d packed up a few things that Dick might like to have with him in the manor.

Bruce returned to Dick’s room a few minutes later. “Is that Zitka?” Dick said, staring at the old, stuffed elephant in Bruce’s hands.

“Yes.” Bruce tucked the toy against Dick’s chest.

“I don’t want her – _it_ ,” Dick protested feebly. “I’m too old.”

“I found her in your apartment on your pillow,” Bruce said. “There’s no shame in needing comfort. Good night, Dick.”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t respond. As Bruce turned off the light, he heard quiet sniffles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter. I can't tell if it's too intense too soon, or not intense enough. Thoughts?


	4. Neglectful Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has some revelations about his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I am so sorry about how long this took. Since I posted the last chapter, I decided to quit my job, drive across the country (during a pandemic), and move into my parents' basement to attend grad school. (~woo) So I've been a bit busy. But now I'm just hanging out ~~, staring sadly at my bank account,~~ until the semester, so I'll probably be posting more often. 
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and kudos! I'm behind on replying to all the comments, but please know that I cherish all of them. They really keep me going, and I read through them when stuck or having a bad day ~~because holy shit I decided to be unemployed during a pandemic~~. Thank you so much!!!!!
> 
> Also - during the US election, I was super stressed, and so I wrote a oneshot for this series, if you want to check it out. I'm ordering this series chronologically, instead of by publish date, so it's now the first fic in this series.

Tim stared at the phone in his hand as it went to voicemail – again. He hung up before the beep. He’d already left two voicemails.

Tim debated redialing, but a seventh missed call an hour after the agreed upon time was too desperate for even Tim. He set down the phone and rubbed his eyes with his palms, breathing in sharp breaths. He _wouldn’t_ cry. He wouldn’t.

He jumped as the phone rang. With shaking hands, he answered. “H-hello?”

 _“Tim?”_ his mother said.

“Hey, Mom,” Tim said.

 _“How’re you doing, darling?”_ Janet said. _“Your father’s here too.”_

“Hey, Dad,” Tim said. “I’m, uh – I’m good.”

 _“Good to hear, Timmy. We don’t have long, so let’s be quick,”_ Jack said. _“What’s this about, again?”_

Tim wanted to point out that they’d have more time if his parents hadn’t called almost an hour late, but he didn’t. It’d only make his father angry and his mother defensive. He was honestly lucky that they called at all. This was their fourth reschedule.

“Bruce had me take the Gotham Academy entrance exam, and I got in,” Tim said. He couldn’t mask the tiny bit of pride in his voice. “The deadline is next week. I sent you a document with the pros and cons. You should have-”

 _“We didn’t get that,”_ Janet said.

“I sent it to your secretary,” Tim said.

 _“Amelia probably considered it low priority, then,”_ Jack said. _“She knows how busy we are.”_

Tim winced. “Yeah, probably. I can quickly go over it, so-”

 _“What’s wrong with your online school?”_ Janet asked. _“I thought you were enjoying that.”_

How would she even know? They hadn’t talked in months. “I was,” Tim said. “Bruce just thought-”

 _“He’s trying to fix problems that aren’t there. The online school is fine,”_ Jack said.

“But-”

 _“I don’t know, Jack,”_ Janet said. _“If Bruce suggested it, he might think we’re snubbing him if we say no.”_

“Bruce wouldn’t-”

 _“But how would Tim even get to the school? He’s too old for a nanny,”_ Jack said.

 _“We could hire a part-time nanny,”_ Janet said.

 _“People would talk,”_ Jack said. _“The online school is easy. Or there’s always boarding school again, if Tim really wants classmates.”_

“Bruce said that Alfred could drive me,” Tim said quickly. 

_“Who’s Alfred?”_ Janet said.

“Bruce’s butler,” Tim said. “He looks after me when Bruce isn’t around.”

 _“We wouldn’t want you to be a burden on Bruce,”_ Janet said. _“He’s already doing so much, letting you stay with him, despite his busy schedule.”_

Tim flinched. His mother always could unknowingly state all of Tim’s insecurities without even trying.

 _“I still don’t understand why he wanted Tim to stay with him,”_ Jack said.

 _“His younger son – oh, what is that boy’s name again? – Jackson? – is away for the summer. Bruce is probably lonely all by himself,”_ Janet said.

“Jason,” Tim said, though it physically hurt to say it. “His name – it’s Jason.”

 _“Hmm. I suppose the butler is already taking Jason to school,”_ Jack said.

“Yeah,” Tim said, a little shakily. He didn’t want to talk about Jason with his parents.

 _“It would be good for Tim to start making connections,”_ Janet said. _“A lot of influential families send their children to Gotham Academy.”_

 _“As long as he doesn’t embarrass our name with teenager antics. High school boys are always getting up to trouble,”_ Jack said.

 _“Not our son,”_ Janet said. _“Tim’s always on his best behavior.”_

Tim didn’t bother reminding his parents that he wouldn’t be starting high school for another year.

 _“We raised one of the good ones,”_ Jack said _._

_“Oh, look at the time, Jack! We’re going to be late.”_

_“Gotham Academy it is, then,”_ Jack said. _“Tim, have Bruce send Amelia the paperwork.”_

_“Talk to you later, darling!”_

They hung up before Tim could say goodbye. Tim dropped the phone next to him on the couch and buried his face in his hands. Conversations with his parents always left him feeling drained.

A few minutes later, he ambled into the kitchen in search of coffee. Unfortunately, Alfred was in the kitchen, which thwarted Tim’s plan. Tim stared at the coffee maker woefully.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Master Tim?” Alfred said pointedly.

“Can I have just the tiniest bit of coffee, Alfred? _Please_?”

“Perhaps when you are older,” Alfred said.

Tim sat on one of the barstools as Alfred prepared the tea. It was usually relaxing to watch Alfred bustle around the kitchen, but Tim was too agitated. He barely noticed when Alfred finished.

“Something on your mind?” Alfred said.

Tim wrapped his hands around his cup, enjoying the warmth. “It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” Alfred said. 

“I talked to my parents about Gotham Academy,” Tim said. “They thought it was a good idea.”

Alfred didn’t say anything, merely looked at Tim with calm understanding.

Tim couldn’t take the silence for long. “It’s stupid, because I _want_ to go to the Academy. I created this whole presentation on why I should go there instead taking my classes online, but they didn’t even look at it. I had to reschedule this meeting – a _meeting_ to talk to my parents! – four times, and they decided in less than five minutes. An email exchange would’ve been more efficient. They didn’t even ask me what I wanted. It’s all about the company and image and connections.”

Tim rubbed at his eyes, willing back the tears. Alfred probably thought that Tim was ungrateful. At least Tim _had_ parents, and ones that could afford to send him to Gotham Academy, too. Tim was much luckier than most kids in Gotham.

“This might be a bigger problem than tea can solve,” Alfred said. “Come with me. I would like to show you something.”

Tim miserably slid off the barstool and followed Alfred out of the kitchen. Alfred led him to the back of the manor, down a hallway that Tim had never been in before. Alfred stopped at a metal door at the end of the hallway and took out a key.

“You are not allowed in here without me or Master Bruce,” Alfred said, both stern and gentle. “Even Master Dick is not allowed in this room unsupervised.”

That wasn’t saying much, since Dick wasn’t allowed out of his bedroom unsupervised. When Tim nodded, Alfred unlocked the door and ushered him in.

The room was long and narrow. There were large, safe-like cabinets along the wall, and a short barrier blocking off a section of the room. It was a shooting range, Tim realized, recognizing it from movies.

“I thought Bruce didn’t like guns,” Tim said.

“Master Bruce’s father built this,” Alfred said. “Mrs. Wayne enjoying shooting.”

Tim didn’t mention the blatant, cruel irony. “Why’d you take me here?”

“This might help clear your mind,” Alfred said. “Have you ever used a gun before?”

“N-no,” Tim said. Alfred wanted him to _shoot_ things? Tim barely could be trusted with a frisbee.

Alfred went over to one of the cabinets and unlocked it. Tim peered over his shoulder and audibly gasped at the number of guns and ammunition.

“It is always best to be prepared,” Alfred said, clearly amused.

Prepared for _what_? The _apocalypse_?

Alfred pulled out two different guns and a couple magazines. He closed the cabinet and locked it again. “Since this is your first time, we will start with a basic semi-automatic pistol. Master Jason did well with this Beretta U22 Neos – lightweight, minimal recoil, 22-caliber.”

“…Okay,” Tim said. He wondered how long he could fake understanding what Alfred was saying.

Alfred smiled knowingly. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

Alfred explained to Tim about the different types of guns, what caliber meant, recoil, semi-automatic vs. manual, and, most importantly, safety. Alfred didn’t even let Tim touch the gun before Tim could recite back all the guns safety rules.

“It wouldn’t do if you shot your foot off,” Alfred said mildly.

Alfred showed him how to assemble and re-assemble. It was almost mesmerizing to watch how quickly Alfred could take apart the long gun-thingy – rifle, Tim remembered – and then put the pieces together just as fast.

Finally, Alfred deemed Tim ready to fire a gun. The pistol felt both heavy and light in Tim’s hands as he stood at the firing range. He and Alfred were wearing ear-protection muffs, so Alfred corrected Tim’s posture with gentle nudges.

When Tim’s posture was right, his hold on the gun steady, and Alfred a few feet away, Tim cautiously flicked off the safety. He took a few deep breaths. He just had to pull back the trigger. It was as simple as that.

 _Bang_. He barely heard the shot, but he definitely felt it. He steadied his stance. _Bang. Bang. Bang._ The gun clicked empty after ten rounds.

He flicked the safety back on and lowered the gun, staring at the holes in the target. The target wasn’t person-shaped, like in the movies. It was an actual target, like on a darts board. Only one of Tim’s shots was somewhere close-ish to the center. Tim slipped off his muffs. “My aim is terrible.”

“Practice is key,” Alfred said. He rested a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You did well for your first time.”

“Can I, uh, go again?” Tim asked.

“Of course,” Alfred said.

Tim couldn’t specify _why_ he enjoyed shooting, but it did clear his mind, like Alfred had said. He relaxed with the consistent rhythm of the recoil, and then the target analysis, and then the reload, and then the recoil again. Alfred was a calm instructor, offering soft pointers and warm encouragements.

Tim lost track of how many reloads before his hands started to hurt, and they called it a day.

“Thanks,” Tim said, as they walked back to the kitchen.

“I am glad that you enjoyed yourself,” Alfred said.

Once in the kitchen, Alfred made two new cups of tea. Tim stared down at his cup and thought back on his conversation with his parents. He felt less miserable now and more…angry.

“I think-” Tim stopped himself before he let out a vile confession.

“You should never be ashamed of how you feel,” Alfred said.

“I think I hate them,” Tim blurted. “My parents. I didn’t used to. I thought – I thought it was my _fault_ , that they didn’t want me around. But I don’t think _I’m_ the problem, because Bruce genuinely wants me here. I think. Right? I mean, I don’t – he doesn’t – there’s no other reason he’d want me here, except for me? I think?”

“Yes,” Alfred agreed.

“So that means the problem is with _them_ ,” Tim spat. “They’ve always made me feel like there was something wrong with me, but there’s something wrong with them, and so I think I hate them.”

His hands curled up into fists as he waited for Alfred to scold him. Instead, Alfred set aside his tea and pulled him into a hug. After a few seconds, he hugged back. His eyes filled with tears, and he buried his face in the soft fabric of Alfred’s suit.

“I wish I never had to talk to them again,” Tim admitted quietly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alfred promised.

Tim wasn’t sure if there was anything that Alfred _could_ do. His parents controlled his life until he was eighteen, and even then, Tim doubted he’d escape their grasp. It’d probably be worse once Tim was out of school, because Tim would be expected to help them with the business – the business that mattered more to them than their own son.

“Is everything alright?”

At the sound of Bruce’s voice, Tim jumped back and frantically rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Yep!” he squeaked. “Fine. It’s fine. Nothing happening, uh, here.”

Bruce did not look convinced.

“I have, uh, homework, uh, to do?” Tim said and winced. It was summer break. “I mean, stuff. To do. In my room. I’ll just…go then.”

He rushed out of the kitchen.

+++

Bruce watched Tim go with concern. “What happened?” he asked Alfred.

“He had a distressing call with his parents today,” Alfred said. “I think those calls should cease. He was quite upset.”

“Hm. You’re right,” Bruce said. “I didn’t want the Drakes concerned that we were getting too involved in Tim’s life, but it isn’t worth upsetting Tim.”

“It is shameful for a parent to treat their children poorly,” Alfred said.

Bruce recognized the masked cold fury in Alfred’s voice. “Should I ask what you’re planning?” Bruce said with a mixture of amusement and apprehension. Alfred was unpredictable when incensed.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Alfred said blandly.

“The last time someone angered you this much, you removed their kneecaps,” Bruce said.

“Since they were trying to hurt Master Dick, I thought the action prudent,” Alfred said.

“Probably kinder than what I would’ve done,” Bruce said. “I just don’t want anything coming back to bite us.”

“Do not worry, sir. I always cleanup my messes,” Alfred said.

“I won’t ask, then,” Bruce said. “I should probably check on Tim. Poor boy.”

“Very good, sir.”

Bruce found Tim slumped against Dick’s bedroom door. Tim stiffened when he saw Bruce. “Sorry, I just-”

Bruce sat next to Tim on the floor. “Even though I see him every day, I miss him too.”

“Is he doing alright?” Tim asked.

“He’ll come around,” Bruce said, though he knew that that didn’t answer Tim’s question. “Alfred said that you had a difficult phone call with your parents.”

“It’s fine,” Tim said quickly. “They agree to let me go to Gotham Academy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bruce said. “Did they like your deliberation report?”

Tim looked away. “N-no. They didn’t even read it.”

Bruce was starting to understand Alfred’s degree of anger. “That’s a shame. I thought it was very well thought out.”

“Thanks,” Tim said glumly. He rested his chin on his knees and stared blankly forward.

Bruce waited for Tim to say more, but Tim seemed to be shutting down. Eventually, Bruce broke the silence. “Most people think Alfred started raising me after my parents died, but that wasn’t the case.”

“Yeah?” Tim said, clearly confused by the subject change.

“My parents loved me, but they rarely had time to show it,” Bruce explained. “They hired Alfred when I was five, and he took the role of caretaker and bodyguard, when he wasn’t performing his butler duties. Even before their deaths, Alfred was more of parent to me than my parents were. Between managing Wayne Enterprises and rebuilding Gotham, they were gone most of the time.”

“Did you – did you hate them?” Tim asked nervously.

“Sometimes,” Bruce said. “I didn’t really understand how little I saw them until after they died and basically nothing changed.”

“I think I hate my parents,” Tim said guiltily.

“After my parent’s deaths, I was angry at them for how little time we had spent together,” Bruce said. “At first, I romanticized my memories of them, but I soon realized just how few memories I had, and I did hate them for that. But then I hated myself for hating them, because I know they loved me. Alfred helped me understand that I didn’t have to love them just because they loved me – especially since their love wasn’t enough.”

“I…I kind of wish mine would die too…Is…that wrong?” Tim whispered.

“A few weeks before they died, my parents started discussing sending me to a boarding school,” Bruce said. “If they hadn’t died, I would’ve been taken away from Alfred and Gotham. I probably would’ve never become Batman or met Dick and Jason and you. My life would’ve been fundamentally different and not for the better.”

“I’m glad I met you,” Tim said.

Bruce wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “The family that you chose is more important than anyone else. Always remember that, Tim.”

“I will,” Tim promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know nothing about guns. I have never shot a gun. I have never touched a gun. They all look the same. I feel like a failure of an American and a military brat. I did so much googling. ("beginner guns for children" felt very creepy to search. The images that popped up didn't make me feel better holy cow.) If you know gun things, please let me know if I got anything wrong. 
> 
> (I was prepared to defend my stance that Alfred is a gun enthusiast, and then I remembered that this is my au, so I can decree anything in this 'verse. So Alfred is a gun enthusiast/ex-special forces/badass/i love him. :D)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! There will definitely be more Dick next chapter (and, ~teaser, Uncle Clark might make an appearance). :D
> 
> (ALSO - Almost forgot - So there's been a lot of hate on Tim (who I love dearly - he's so young and adorable and a bit evil-ish BUT FOR REASONS - he needs all the hugs). I was a bit concerned that Bruce turned him to the dark side too easily, but I was talking to my librarian friend (everyone should have a token librarian friend - they know all), and she's like, a summer is more than enough time to brainwash someone, especially a kid. And then she listed a bunch of sketchy experiments they did before there were ethical rules and jazz. So, yeah. This fic is 100% realistic. Totally could happen. Certified by a reference librarian. No wild plot stretches here. I'm sure this has totally happened before irl.)


	5. Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim learns to hate Superman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life's, uh, interesting since the last chapter, and it'll probably stay that way for a bit, so I apologize in advance for the slow updates. I try to respond to the comments before posting a new chapter, but it might take me a bit. Thank you to everyone who comments! I swear I read and appreciate all of them, even if I'm super slow to respond.
> 
> Here's a short chapter, just to keep this fic (my baby) from dying. We need to last until at least Jason.

Tim didn’t mean to fall asleep in front of Dick’s door. He didn’t enjoy humiliating himself. But after Bruce had tucked him in – Tim’s new guilty pleasure – Tim had stared at the ceiling, replaying his phone call with his parents over and over and over. Eventually, he gave up on sleep.

He’d only meant to sit there for a few minutes, just to calm his mind. If he pressed his ear against the door, he could almost hear Dick’s quiet, steady breathing.

A scream woke Tim suddenly, jerking him from his uncomfortable position on the floor. Tim’s face burned with embarrassment when he realized that someone – probably Bruce – had draped a blanket over him and nestled a pillow under his head.

Before he could simmer too long in his mortification, Tim heard another shout. He scrambled to his feet as the distressed noises continued.

Tim had overheard Dick’s nightmares before. Tim wanted to rush in and wake Dick, but Tim was under strict orders to stay out of Dick’s room.

Tim wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders and hurried downstairs. Bruce hadn’t rushed to Dick’s door, which meant that Bruce wasn’t upstairs. Tim hoped that Bruce wasn’t away for the night. Tim really, _really_ didn’t want to be forced to disobey Bruce. 

He took the elevator down to the Batcave, since it was twenty-four seconds faster than the steps – he’d timed it, once, to Bruce’s amusement. He chewed on his lip as he impatiently waited.

Finally, the elevator stopped. Tim opened the gate and rushed into the cave. He stopped immediately when he heard unfamiliar voices.

“-hardly my fault. The boulder was in the way!”

“No one’s blaming you, Barry. It’s just-”

“ _I_ am blaming him. He almost broke my arm!”

“Hal-”

“ _Enough.”_ Tim relaxed at the sound of Bruce’s Batman growl. “Pointing fingers like children accomplishes nothing. Finish your reports by Friday. Superman and I will review them and adjust training accordingly.”

“Fine,” the first voice grumbled.

Tim hesitated. Bruce probably wouldn’t appreciate Tim interrupting what sounded like a Justice League meeting, but Tim also knew that Dick’s nightmares were brutal. Tim quietly crept further into the cave.

Bruce – Batman – was sitting at the Batcomputer with his cowl on. The many screens were full of Justice League members. Tim tried not to be starstruck. The Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Lantern… None of them were as cool as Batman and Robin, of course, but Tim was a fanboy, through and through. His fingers itched for his camera.

“-meeting adjourned,” Superman was saying.

The heroes began disappearing from the screens until only Superman remained.

“What is it, Superman?” Bruce said briskly.

“Is the line secure for just the two of us?” Superman said.

Bruce typed a command into the computer, and Superman’s face was enlarged to fill most of the screens. “Now it is.”

Superman seemed to deflate. Tiredly, he ran a hand through his windswept hair. “I swear, the more members we get, the harder our work becomes.”

“Incompetency will do that,” Bruce said. “I don’t have all night. What do you need to discuss?”

Superman back straightened, as if bracing himself for a fight. “I haven’t heard from Dick or Nightwing in months. From what I can tell, he hasn’t been in Bludhaven for a while.”

Tim’s jaw dropped. Superman knew Nightwing’s secret identity?

“Hm,” Bruce said. Tim didn’t need to see his face to know that Bruce was scowling.

“I don’t like to pry into your relationship with Dick,” Superman began.

“Then don’t,” Bruce said under his breath but loud enough for Tim to hear.

“- but the Titans came to me with their concerns about Nightwing,” Superman continued. “I’m sorry about Jason. You and Dick must be-”

“What is your point?” Bruce said coldly.

“Kid Flash thinks that Dick is trying to kill the Joker or die trying. He’s worried that Dick might be suicidal,” Superman said. “Should I be concerned?”

“No,” Bruce said. “He’s safe now.”

“Dick or the Joker?” Superman said. “The Joker hasn’t surfaced in months. Dick must be in so much pain right now, but he’d never forgive himself if he killed someone. Has he…?”

“Dick is safe, and I have forbidden him from going after the Joker,” Bruce said.

“And what?” Superman said with an almost amused scoff. “Dick just calmed down and agreed? While he usually does what you tell him, Dick is reckless when he’s angry and hurting.”

Tim wondered how Superman knew – or at least pretended to know – Dick so well. First the Titans and now Superman. Before, Tim hadn’t realized how involved Dick had been in the superhero community. Tim shoved his jealousy down and waited for Bruce’s response. He hoped that Bruce would shut Superman down – tell him that he had to stay away from Dick and out of Gotham.

“I am aware,” Bruce said instead.

Superman was silent for a long moment before saying, “What have you done to Dick, Bruce?”

“He’s safe,” Bruce said. “That’s all that matters.”

“That isn’t all that matters, and you know it,” Superman said. “What have you done? Where’s Dick?”

“He’s safe,” Bruce repeated in a growl.

“Can I talk to him?” Superman said.

“Do you think I’m lying?” Bruce said in a tone that made Tim shiver.

“I think we have different definitions of ‘safe’,” Superman said. He sounded angry. “Look, Bruce, I’m probably misinterpreting what’s happening here. If I could talk to him, it would-”

“My son is fragile right now,” Bruce snapped. “I won’t subject him to your questions.”

“I just want to see that he’s alright,” Superman said. “I won’t-”

“Dick’s wellbeing is none of your concern,” Bruce said. “This conversation is over. My son will contact you _if_ _I_ deem him ready. No sooner. You will not try to contact him. You know the consequences of entering Gotham without permission.”

Superman glowered. The expression was a strange contrast to Superman’s sunny disposition that he showed the press. “Don’t you dare hurt him, Bruce.”

Superman could go to hell, Tim thought viciously.

Bruce ended the call, and Superman thankfully disappeared from the screen. “You can come out now, Tim.” His voice was gentler – more Bruce – now.

Tim flinched at being caught. He sheepishly stepped out of the shadows. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Bruce pulled off the cowl and offered Tim a kind, but tired, smile. “It’s fine. Are you here about Dick?”

Tim nodded. He felt foolish. Nothing happened in the manor without Bruce knowing about it. Of course Bruce already knew about Dick’s nightmare.

“He’s alright now. I took care of it,” Bruce said.

“How?” Tim asked. His curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. He loved learning about all the Batcave controls that kept the manor – and Gotham – under Bruce’s control.

“His medication includes a sleeping drug, in case he leaves the manor,” Bruce explained. “As an unexpected benefit, a small dose will ease him out of nightmares.”

“ _Cool_ ,” Tim said. With Alfred’s help, Tim was studying some basic biochemistry. The subject was fascinating. “But won’t he get a resistance to it, if he’s getting the drug so often?”

Bruce nodded. “That’s a risk, yes. What would you suggest as a solution?”

“Um…” Tim thought hard. He loved the warm approval in Bruce’s eyes when he passed Bruce’s little tests. “I guess switch between types of meds that do the same thing? That way he won’t get used to either one? Or is it possible to make one that the body can’t adapt to?”

“Ivy has managed it, so yes, but your first suggestion is the easier route. Usually, the simple solutions work better than the complicated ones,” Bruce said. “Dick has a resistance against most sedatives, so I’ve been developing a new one just for him. Would you like to help?”

“Yeah!” Tim said and flushed. “I mean, that’d be fun.”

+++

Tim slumped against Bruce, his head resting limply on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce kept his body as still as possible as he logged out of the Batcomputer.

It was hot chocolate and cuddles for Dick. A bedtime story – _“I’m too_ old _for this, B!”_ – for Jason. For Tim, science and engineering projects helped calm his mind enough to fall asleep. All of Bruce’s sons were unique and special in their own way.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Bruce murmured as he carefully gathered Tim up and carried him back to Tim’s room.

In Bruce’s arms, Tim looked tiny and vulnerable. His youthful face hid the intelligence and unbridled potential. Bruce didn’t like to think about what the Drakes had done to destroy Tim’s confidence. Tim was like a sponge, absorbing anything that Bruce threw at him.

And so kind, just like all of Bruce’s boys. Bruce knew that if Tim hadn’t found him, Tim would’ve woken Dick up himself, despite his loyalty to Bruce. Though Tim tried to hide it, Tim worried constantly about his older brother being alone and hurting, even if it was for Dick’s own safety. Bruce needed to speed up Dick’s timeline for Tim’s sake.

Dick wouldn’t hold out much longer. When Bruce had found Tim at the side of the road, he hadn’t expected to find another son, but Tim fit into their little family so well. Despite Dick’s denials, Dick knew it too. Just mentioning the Drakes’ disastrous call should break Dick’s resolve completely.

Bruce pulled the covers up to the Tim’s chin and gently kissed Tim’s forehead. “G’night, Bruce,” Tim mumbled, snuggling into his blankets.

“Good night, son,” Bruce said.

Bruce’s smile faded when he left the room. The conversation with Clark had bothered him more than he’d wanted to show Tim. He glanced wearily at his own bedroom door that led to his comfortable bed, but he knew that he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

Quietly, he slipped into Dick’s room.

Bruce sat in his usual spot and watched the soothing rise and fall of Dick’s chest. Dick was curled up on his side with Zitka lovingly tucked against him. 

The peacefulness in Dick’s sleeping face was calming. Before each visit, Bruce had to brace himself against Dick’s anger and horrible, horrible fear. But Bruce would take the furious words and fearful tears to prevent Dick from meeting Jason’s horrific fate. Besides, Bruce deserved a worse penance for his sins against Jason.

Jason. His darling boy. Defiant until the end but so obviously scared. At what point had he realized that Batman wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – save him? Had it made the Joker’s blows more painful, to know it could only end in death? Had Jason – rightfully – hated Bruce then for pulling Jason into Batman’s cold, dangerous shadow?

Dick sighed in his sleep, dragging Bruce away from his dark thoughts. Bruce couldn’t resist gently pressing two fingers against Dick’s neck. Dick’s pulse was slow and steady, as it should be. He’d failed Jason, but he would keep Jason’s brother safe – for Jason and for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be more Dick next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback on the trajectory (or general thoughts/feelings/ideas) of this fic is appreciated! :)  
> As always, I'm making this up as I go with vague plot points.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](https://princessmariana-writes.tumblr.com/), if you want to say hi or give suggestions or ask questions or just hang! Sometimes I yell my writing struggles into the abyss that is tumblr. :)


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